


No Cream, No Sugar

by galentines



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galentines/pseuds/galentines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben just wants black coffee. The barista doesn't agree. Coffee shop/college AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Cream, No Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything substantial in almost TWO YEARS. This felt good. Thanks, as always, to Ashley for the help <3

Ben isn’t too picky about his coffee.

Sure, shitty coffee exists and he doesn’t enjoy drinking it. But coffee is coffee, and all he needs it to do is wake him and help focus on his Auditing and Risk Assessment II homework. Taste isn’t the most important thing to him.

And for whatever reason, senior year is the first time he has a class all the way over on the east side of campus. And the only coffee place nearby is Sweetums, some local southern Indiana company.

As he walks in early before his morning class, he realizes it’s very pink inside. Hot pink, specifically, and it smells like a candy store.

And the barista behind the counter is kind of cute.

“Hi! Welcome to Sweetums Coffee, what can I get for you?”

Ben twitches. It’s 8am, he’s barely awake enough to keep his eyes open, and this girl is practically bouncing on her feet. He thinks he’s seen her around campus in passing, but he doesn’t know her. Her blonde hair is swept into a ponytail under her _hot pink_ visor and really, she’s smiling entirely too much for a Thursday morning.

He must look confused, because she keeps talking.

“Can I recommend the triple fudge mochaccino with whipped cream? It’s my absolute favorite! I make it with even more chocolate than--”

“Uh, just black coffee. Please.”

Her smile falls.

“Black? Just plain black coffee?”

Ben blinks.

“Yes. Just, normal coffee. Give me normal coffee.”

She quickly screws her face back into a smile.

“This is Sweetums! We specialize in our candy flavors and toppings. Getting black coffee would be a waste of our talents! Andy, show him.”

A broad guy working at the drink machine next to her looks up, his face coated in cookie crumbles.

“What, boss?”

She sighs, exasperated.

“Look--” Ben glances down at her nametag, “ _Leslie_ , I just need a quick coffee to take to class.”

Leslie reacts as if she’s just been burned.

“You don’t appreciate the work we do, do you?”

It’s _too damn early_ for this.

“You brew coffee beans. I am offering you money for you to brew me a cup. Is that not how this works?”

“Andy,” she calls out through clenched teeth. “One. Black. Coffee.”

“Black like double double dark chocolate with chocolate whipped cream?”

“Black like plain. Nothing in it.”

“That’s a thing? Awesome.”

Leslie looks back at Ben with cold eyes.

“Three dollars.”

“It says two-fifty.”

“For you it’s three.”

He doesn’t have time for this. The second he pays, she yells “NEXT” and immediately begins helping the next customer.

Ben mumbles a thanks as Andy calls out his drink (“That is so wild, I didn’t know you could drink this stuff plain!”). On his way out the door, a sullen looking girl washing tables stares him down. He feels the slightest chill down his spine as he leaves.

\---

He relies on truly awful, watered-down cafeteria coffee from a nearby dorm the rest of the week. He tries not to be picky, but really, it isn’t perking him up at all.

And come next Thursday, Sweetums really is the closest to his class.

The sullen girl, who’s name-tag says “April” but also has a drawing of a red pitchfork on it, just looks at him expectantly.

“Uh, black coffee.”

“Black like your soul?”

Jesus Christ, what is it with this staff?

“Um. Sure. Whatever.”

“Les, this guy wants just gross coffee.”

Reluctantly, he looks over to see Leslie working the machines.

Brushing aside an errant blonde curl, she looks up in concern.

“Oh. Too Good For Sugar is here?”

He rolls his eyes.

“I just need my coffee, thanks.”

“Sure. Of course. Coming right up.”

She looks entirely suspicious, but seriously, he needs to get to class.

\---

When he sits down and finally takes a sip, it’s full of coffee grounds.

And caramel sauce.

And the name on the side says “Jerk”.

\---

He isn’t entirely sure why it bugs him all day. It’s a big campus, he has plenty to do and he doesn’t need more coffee. What he needs is to study for his accounting law test and meet up with Chris to finish a project. He should probably even call his estranged father to say hello before he thinks about, for whatever reason, going back to Sweetums Coffee.

When he gets back to his apartment, his roommates are deep into decorating for what appears to be a complete rager.

“J-Shot, you know any solid ladies to invite to our shindig?”

Ben turns on his heel and walks out the door. 

\---

He enters the shop, which is now full of students on laptops studying and chatting. Every drink is a bright color or deeply, unsettlingly chocolate. It smells like cookies have recently been baked. He cranes his neck to look up and down the counter.

All new employees, no sign of Leslie. 

He then catches a flash of blonde hair through the window, out in the parking lot.

As he rushes to catch her, he realizes she’s carrying her apron in hand. Probably finishing her shift, going to drive home.

“Leslie?”

She turns, her curious face turning sour.

“Oh. You.”

“Yes, right. Um. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot?”

“Look…, uh, what’s your name?”

“Ben. Wyatt.”

“Look, _Benjamin_ ,” she asserts loudly, poking him in the chest with her finger. “It’s not like being a barista is my career, but I take pride in what I do. And you don’t appreciate that. You don’t care. You don’t take us seriously.”

He feels so sincerely, utterly confused.

“It’s a coffee shop, right? I order coffee.”

“You don’t get it.”

She unlocks her car and he reaches out, catching her arm.

Her skin is so soft.

“I didn’t mean to like, insult you. I’m cranky in the morning. I just need coffee to wake up, okay?”

She looks down at his hand, which he awkwardly draws away.

God, what is he doing? He doesn’t know her at all. They’re strangers. She’s just a girl who takes a lot of pride in her job, and he’s just the guy that wants coffee. Why is he doing this? Does it actually matter?

“You know what, that’s fine. Just go.”

Leslie looks at him, confused.

“Okay.”

He lets her drive away.

\---

Curse Chris for assuring Ben that Tom was an “excellent, dependable guy with solid goals and dreams who would make an absolutely delightful roommate!”

Because Tom is actually a narcissistic wannabe-entrepreneur who’s heart might be in the right place if it weren’t for Jean Ralphio, their third roommate. Tom had insisted, wearing Ben down with the idea of a bigger apartment with more space to stretch out. What he had actually wanted was a decent sized place for parties, and Jean Ralphio is one of the most infuriating people Ben had ever met.

And tonight, apparently, the three of them are hosting a party. He just didn’t know until yesterday, after facebook invites had already been sent and a frightening amount of tequila had already been purchased.

Ben locks his bedroom door and is trying to drown out the loud bass and shouting happening elsewhere in the apartment. Tom tried convincing Ben to borrow an all-white tuxedo of his for the party before deciding it looked better on himself, and Jean Ralphio had gotten scarily close to _actually cutting Ben’s hair_ (“No man, it does a weird sticky-up thing, that’s not good, you could poke a girl’s eye out with that”), so this is safer.

Until he has to pee. Bad.

A stranger is passed out just outside his bedroom door.

Maybe drinking will help him get through this.

\---

Two beers later, he realizes that Leslie is on his couch.

Barista Leslie, only her hair is down and flowing on her shoulders, and instead of a neon orange apron, she’s in a tight skirt.

Wait, has he been staring at her knees for too long?

She throws her head back and lets out a triumphant cackle and he audibly gulps. She’s leaning heavily on a pretty girl with brown hair on one side, the creepy April girl from Sweetums is in Andy’s lap on the other. The red solo cup in Leslie’s hand splashes over with her movements. He notices that her nose crinkles when she grins really big.

Shit, she’s… she’s _something_.

When she’s not flaring her nostrils at him and yelling, anyway.

He decides that yes, definitely, he needs to be drinking. He guzzles a beer too quickly in the kitchen to try to combat his nerves. Tom arrives, magically, holding out a cup of some mystery alcohol. Ben accepts because, knowing Tom, it’s likely strong.

He winces at the first sip.

“Baller party, am I right?”

“Yeah, it’s uh, fine. Good party.”

Tom looks around proudly.

“So, how do you know Leslie?”

“Knope? We had some english class together freshman year. She’s kind of crazy, and like scary smart, but also bomb. And her best friend Ann is suuuuper hot. Speaking of…” He pulls a rose out of his sports jacket, his eyebrows raised. “Time to give that another try. Fifteenth time’s the charm!" 

“Tom, no--”

He’s gone before Ben can even pretend to talk sense into him. And he’s starting to feel ever so slightly buzzed, so he walks back into the living room. The girl he assumes must be Ann starts physically chasing Tom away, and Leslie is left on the couch looking concerned.

“Ann! Be careful! He’s a tiny man!”

Ben approaches with caution.

“Leslie?”

She whips around and sways in her seat a little, squinting at him.

“Black Coffee!” she yelps, yanking hard on his sweatshirt. “You hate fun and hard work! Hi!”

He sits down next to her, at her persistent sleeve-yanking.

“Um, I don’t hate hard work.”

“Sure, okay. Is your alcohol plain, too? You hate party fun?”

He really needs to be on her level, drinking-wise.

“I don’t hate fun, either. Look, can we start over?” He takes a big gulp of his drink, which could very possibly be straight alcohol. “I’m Ben. I’m an accounting major. I’m from Minnesota.”

Dramatically, Leslie reaches out her hand.

“Leslie Barbara Knope. History major, future president, very good at bowling. Ask Ron!” She starts to look around her wildly. “Ron! Where’s Ron?”

Ben doesn’t know a Ron, so he just takes her outstretched hand and shakes it.

“Future president, huh?” He smiles, because even drunk, she’s cute.

“Numbers are boring,” she asserts, and it’s followed by a tiny burp.

“They’re not boring, I promise. They’re quite fascinating, actually. Like, with spreadsheets-”

“Please drink that instead,” she says, pointing to the drink in his hand. “It’s good, and you’re very sober.”

He agrees.

\---

He learns that Leslie loves Hillary Clinton, she’s from a town called Pawnee, and some small horse brings tears to her eyes.

He tells her about his favorite issue of Batman (she’s very interested), how his best friend Chris tries to get him to jog (she agrees that running is ridiculous), and that Star Wars is the best movie franchise out there (she isn’t in agreement, but he can work on that).

At least, he thinks all those things happened. Everything got blurry pretty quick, and somehow they’ve gone from laughing on the couch to dancing in the middle of the room.

“You were a baby mayor,” she blurts, pushing his shoulder. He halts.

“Wait, what?”

“I know you! You said Wyatt, and I thought, Partridge!”

His palms begin to sweat. Even if his brain is beyond fuzzy, the anxiety still manages to zap through.

“It’s cute. I wanted to be a mayor. I could be a mayor.”

“You could be,” he agrees, happy to pull focus off him and back to her.

She looks at him like she’s never heard something so wonderful in her life.

And suddenly she’s kissing him.

\---

It was sloppy, and imperfect, and she accidentally poked him in the eye when she went to touch his hair. But it was still… nice. He thinks.

They danced. They kissed more, he thinks he might have touched her boob? It made her laugh.

They fell asleep on the couch. He woke up with a hangover, and she was already gone.

\---

The weekend is long, and pretty cloudy. He tries to offset the hangover by deep-cleaning the apartment, but everywhere he looks is a mess. Tom doesn’t leave his room all day on Saturday, and Jean Ralphio doesn’t turn up again until Sunday night.

He doesn’t even know where he’d find Leslie, let alone what to say to her.

They were so drunk, but he thinks he likes her. Like, as more than just the cute girl at the coffee shop who is offended by his order. Like, they actually have things in common and he wants to kiss her while sober. It would probably be better. He isn’t the most coordinated while drunk.

He also doesn’t remember a lot of what happened, though. Which is embarrassing. And what if she forgot completely? Was that just a fun silly party thing?

\---

He gets his answer bright and early Monday morning. He usually is across campus and hits up a Starbucks on Monday, but he goes out of his way, hoping to see her.

She’s as bright-eyed and happy as ever.

She smiles at him, just a small bit.

“Black coffee really does taste like crap,” she tells him. “You have lousy taste.”

She makes it herself.

The cardboard cup holder has his actual name written on it, with a frowny face drawing.

Neither of them mention the party.

\---

It becomes routine. Three times a week he stops by Sweetums. Once his days become constant, his coffee is ready for him when he arrives.

She never stops giving him a hard time about it, but she smiles more.

\---

“Come on, just let me put like, one pump of mocha in it.”

“We both know what you consider a pump is more than anyone needs.”

She’s giving him an absolute stone face.

“You do not get your coffee today unless you let me put something in it." 

“Leslie, come on, I have to get to class.”

“You can be sleepy in class then, Benjamin.”

She only calls him that when she’s being truly serious in her arguing.

He settles for french vanilla. 

\---

When he tastes it, it reminds him of her lip gloss weeks ago.

She still hasn’t mentioned that. Neither has he.

\---

It’s barely October when she tries pushing pumpkin spice on him.

“Normally I am completely against vegetables, but it truly tastes like candy.”

“For the millionth time, I don’t want candy flavored coffee.”

She studies his face.

“Then why come to Sweetums?”

He has no answer to that. At least not one that won’t give him away.

She gets a twinkle in her eye at his silence.

“I’m gonna put pumpkin in it. Just a bit.”

It’s way too sweet.

He realizes there's also pile of undissolved, unwanted sugar at the bottom.

\---

Ben starts tagging along when Tom invites him places.

Sometimes it's a 1am diner run. Leslie always sits with Ann, but she steals fries off Ben’s plate all night. Ben tried to retaliate by taking one of Leslie’s pickles once, and she almost bit his head off.

One time Ben suggests going to Starbucks and he swears her eyes go black.

But then she pushes his shoulder playfully and calls him a jerk-face like it’s some kind of pet name. He has no idea where they stand. 

\--- 

“I'm just saying, I think Empire Strikes Back is overrated.”

Ben can feel the veins in his forehead bulging, but there's no way Leslie can be serious.

Last week, he walked in wearing a faded Star Wars shirt. Leslie mentioned that she hadn't seen them since she was young, and Ben insisted she watch them over the weekend and report back 

“Leslie, everyone likes that one best. Everyone knows it's the best one. _Everyone._ ” 

“ _Everyone_ can be wrong sometimes, Ben. That's why salad is so popular.”

She had even said ewoks were a highlight. He truly can't tell if he's being teased or not. And he has to figure it out so badly that he follows her out back to the dumpster as she takes out the garbage.

“It's the perfect narrative, with an amazing cliffhanger ending. It's iconic! It's one of the biggest moments in pop culture history!”

“Eh,” Leslie shrugs, heaving the bag into the dumpster. “Vader means ‘father’ in German.”

She turns to him and suddenly grabs his windbreaker and pulls his lips to hers. 

It's quick and fast and he pulls away, blindsided.

“Wha--”

“You're too easy,” she says, her voice holding the edge of a laugh. She pulls him back in and yes, this is much better sober. Her hand is in his hair and she does this thing with her tongue - Christ.

And suddenly it's over and she's leaving him dumbfounded, as she calls, “See you later, flyboy.”

He needs a cold shower. Now.

\---  

Tom forces everyone to the local club for his own birthday, and while he and Jean Ralphio try to bother every single female in the joint, Ben tries to convince Leslie that his ultimate frisbee league is good and there’s merit in the sport. She snorts when he refers to it as a “sport.”

They end up in a heap in a dark corner of the club, mouths smashed together and hands wandering til a song comes on that makes her screech Ann’s name and disappear off into the dancing crowd.

\---

On Halloween, she tells him that his Jon Snow costume looks terrible. He criticizes the accuracy of her Amelia Earhart costume (even though it's pretty much perfect).

She kisses him briefly by the punch bowl.

\---

The next day he orders a cappuccino instead of his usual. It's the happiest she's ever been with him.

He tells her not to get used to it, but his grin gives him away.

\---

She makes fun of him a lot. The day she learns about his love for calzones, her glee seems to have no bounds. She continually fires off incorrect facts about Star Wars, just to get a rise out of him.

But she never ever touches Ice Town. He remembers that she knows, but she never goes there.

He might be falling in love with her.

\--- 

On Thanksgiving break, he goes to a Dunkin Donuts and orders his usual black.

The employee says nothing about the order, just what he owes.

Ben grabs a few sugar packets on his way out and actually uses them.

\---

He's had her schedule memorized since September, which is why he's so confused when he arrives at Sweetums the Monday after Thanksgiving and she's not there.

April gives her usual blank stare as he orders his coffee.

“So uh, where's Leslie?”

“Why? Do you wanna murder her and do weird things to the body?”

“Good lord, _no._ ”

“Well good, because you can't, because she's gone forever and you'll never see her again.”

Andy giggles loudly somewhere in the back.

“Babe, you're so spooky.”

\---

Tom has no idea if anything is weird with Leslie, and Jean Ralphio didn't know she worked at Sweetums to begin with.

They've never exchanged numbers. All hanging out has been incidental - or at least, within groups. All they really had was morning coffee.

She's still not there Wednesday, and he starts to get truly nervous.

\---

Ben knows she hates the library and probably wouldn't study there even with the stress of finals, so he sets out to look in other places.

The history building has a nice lounge with plush chairs on the second floor, but no dice.

It's a clear day outside. Of course he should check the quad.

\---

Leslie’s bundled up at the foot of a big oak tree, furiously taking notes in a thick Civil War textbook while the wind tussles up her curls.

God, she’s fucking beautiful. It’s almost infuriating.

“Um, hey,” he calls out as he approaches, not even sure what he has to say to her. He just misses her. Way more than he ever thought.

“Oh, hi Ben.” 

She gives a little half smile, and he immediately notices she doesn’t seem as happy to see him as he is to see her.

Does he sit down next to her? Keep talking while awkwardly standing? He has no idea.

“You’re good?” he asks, mentally hitting himself. What a dumb thing to open with.

“Yeah, busy.” She hesitantly pats the ground next to her, and he sighs in relief.

They sit in silence a few moments while she highlights a line in her book.

“It’s weird, in the mornings,” he starts, figuring he should say _something_ significant already. “No one’s giving me shit. April’s staring is intimidating, but in a very different way.”

Leslie laughs softly but doesn’t look at him.

“Where have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” she answers, eyes still on the text. “Finals are so soon, and then winter break. Not much time for Sweetums. And I got an internship next semester, it’ll take up a lot of time.”

“That’s great!” He’s grinning and willing so very much for her to just _look_ at him, but she still isn’t. Now she’s fiddling with her pen between her fingers. “Congrats. I’m sure you’ll be the best little know-it-all there.”

He nudges her playfully, but she stiffens.

“Ben, I don't wanna just be the girl you make out with for fun.”

His whole body stills.

No. What? That's... not the situation.

“Uh, if I recall, you kissed first.”

“Yes,” she admits, cheeks blushing as she struggles to stand up. “But I did that _because I like you_.”

Ben blinks, scrambling to his feet.

“You like me?”

“Duh, you jerk! But you’ve never said anything!”

“Well neither did you!”

They both stare at each other, waiting.

Leslie seems to be done before he can think of what to say.

“I have class coming up soon. See you around, Ben.”

She collects her belongings and he lets her go.

He's an idiot.

\---

Two weeks pass by, and it's nearly time for winter break. Ben’s neck-deep in finals and has been subsisting on shitty cafeteria coffee all month. It doesn't do the trick. 

He misses her. A lot. But he's also extremely embarrassed, because a pretty girl he likes a lot admitted her feelings for him and he just stood there.

He let her leave.

\---

Ben tries to convince himself that they barely knew each other. That she was just a barista, that they just made out a few times, that all they do is argue anyway.

But he knows that’s not true. 

He knows every stupid argument was an excuse to learn more. That it was a cover to get bothered enough to press lips to lips, that it was their own dumb way of getting to know each other, of flirting and being silly and… 

He really misses it. He does. But it’s not only that.

He wants the Leslie behind the teasing. The one that can talk for hours about the history channel, that will passionately fight for whipped cream and who will gently press her nose into his neck between kisses. He wants the front to stop, and maybe she does too. 

Maybe all she really wants to hear is the same thing he does.

\---

Finals are over, but he’s triple checked that she’s still on campus. 

And like hell he’s gonna wait another month until winter break is over.

He asks Tom for Ann’s phone number.

\---

His left hand is freezing; in it, he holds the most insane frappucino mixture he’s ever laid eyes on. In his right hand is a plain, hot black coffee.

Ann knows the deal; they’ve gone over it. There’s a big end of the semester bash going on, but Ann’s going to make Leslie leave early.

No alcohol, no fronts. Nothing to keep him from doing exactly what he needs to do.

It’s a few minutes late when he finally sees them leave the party, and Leslie is so deep into conversation with Ann that she has to punch Leslie’s arm and point.

He can’t help but stare, a stupid hopeful smile plastered on his face.

Leslie nods at Ann, who thankfully leaves. The yard is covered in white snow, the lights from the house twinkling and bouncing back at them. The music is loud and people are shouting, but the only thing Ben can hear is the crunch of snow under Leslie’s shoes as she makes her way over to him.

“Late night coffee?” she asks. A small smile tugs at her lips as she points to his left. “That one for me?” 

“Oh no, this is mine,” he says, smirking like an idiot. She narrows her eyes as he takes a sip. He tries so, so hard to look smug, but he flinches at the sugar rush. Thankfully she laughs.

“This one’s yours”

He thrusts the black coffee toward her, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Wyatt, if that’s plain, it’s gonna end up on your shoes.”

They’re now openly grinning at each other. He pulls the coffee back and holds out the frap, which she takes. Her face grows softer.

“So?”

“I like you too, Leslie Knope. Even if you take your coffee in a truly awful way.”

“Really?”

He reaches out for her waist with his free hand.

“Yes, it’s really ridiculous coffee.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “And yes. I like you.”

\---

Instead of some sweeping, movie-ending kiss, Ben offers her his arm and they walk the quiet streets back to campus, sipping their coffee.

He doesn’t make fun of a word she says, and she seems content with the sincerity of the conversation.

They end up in front of her dorm, hands clasped and coffee cups long since thrown in the trash.

And for the first time, with no verbal sparring beforehand, Leslie wraps her arms around his neck and pulls his lips to hers. Her smile is so big he nearly kisses her teeth on accident.

\---

She makes him coffee the next morning, in the small pot in her dorm.

It’s black.

He adds his own whipped cream.  

  
  
  



End file.
